The Golden-Eyed Angel
by The Sherlocked Phan of Bag End
Summary: After Raoul and Christine leave Erik, they are married happily. But neither of them can quite forget Erik, the man with the golden eyes. Erik meanwhile continues to watch over Christine as her Angel, but when they meet again, complications ensue and Christine finds her heart torn in two between her caring husband and her remarkable golden-eyed angel... CURRENTLY DISCONTINUED
1. Release

******Hi everyone, this is chapter one of my fanfic. Please read and review so I know whether I should bother to continue posting. Sorry it's short, but the chapters will be longer if this one is successful. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Chapter One**

**Release**

The only sound that could be heard as Raoul de Chagny rowed across the lake was the soft ripples of the paddle dipping in, through and out of the water. The young woman sat down across from him in the gondola was sat in silence, staring down at the glassy stillness beneath her. Raoul couldn't quite put his finger on what her expression read as: part of him saw relief at being free from the Phantom's lair; part of him saw sadness, perhaps from the distress she had obviously undergone when her fiancé was just seconds away from a broken neck and a premature death. The hold that the Phantom's music had over her was obviously long gone, completely eliminated and outweighed by the outrageous way he had dealt with her. Raoul shuddered to think what the monster had done to her. To think he had dragged her off in such an unseemly fashion to begin with was bad enough, but then to force her into a wedding dress…of course, that would have meant her stripping down to her undergarments too! Raoul was disgusted. No decent man would even dream of doing such a thing! What the hell made that creature suppose he had the right to force Christine to expose herself in such a vulgar manner? Of course, there was no telling what else the freak may have done while she was in such a vulnerable situation. Raoul didn't like to think about it; it made his blood turn cold and his fists clench, and he would almost consider returning to fight that beast.

But at least the monster had let him go, and not just by himself. Raoul had to keep glancing up to where Christine was sat, across from him in the gondola; reminding himself that she was really was still here. That the Phantom hadn't somehow performed some act of sorcery and stolen her away from him again, and that she hadn't fallen out of the boat for some stupid reason. Raoul shook his head. Now he was just getting silly. Christine was here with him, they were going far away from the lair, and everything was going to be alright.

Then why wouldn't she look at him? Raoul began to feel a tinge of annoyance. He stared at her for a while, trying to catch her eye, but she adamantly refused and just continued to stare at the blank glassy skin of the lake. Raoul cleared his throat, and she looked up slowly, but to his surprise, Christine spoke first.

"I wonder what's happening back there," she said quietly, looking wistfully back over the lake, and then looking at Raoul. "I wonder what's happening to him." Before Raoul could make any comment, the boat jolted ever so slightly, alerting him that they had landed on the shore of the lake. He smiled and stepped out of the boat, the water only just over his ankles, and pulled it to the land. He extended a hand to Christine, which she took, and helped her out onto the solid floor of the Paris Opera House cellars. They began to walk side by side, Christine leading the way ever so slightly as she knew the route back, and she continued to look at the floor. Raoul felt that he should prompt her to continue her previous train of thought.

"What do you mean?" he said. Christine looked up, slightly startled, and then her eyes filled with…Raoul wasn't sure. Regret? Relief?

"I just…I just don't want anything really bad to happen to my Angel. I know what he did to me…and to you…but he's still a human being, Raoul. He's the only father figure I've ever really known, and I don't want him to get hurt. Do you understand, Raoul?" No. Raoul didn't understand. But he knew what she meant about the Phantom being her father figure. After all, if it weren't for him, her career as a soprano would be non-existent, and she would probably still be stuck as a ballet girl.

"Well, I…" Raoul struggled to find the right words. "I know that he was a great father figure to you, and you clearly trusted him. And I suppose I do admire him to a certain extent; he certainly has great musical skill…" Raoul paused. "But what he did tonight, Christine…that is inexcusable. You know that."

Christine looked up at him. "I…I know. But I do still care about him, even though I don't want to. He scares me, and yet I still respect him." She stopped walking and turned, square on, to face Raoul. "But Raoul, please promise me…promise me that you'll never make me forget all the happy times I did have with my Angel." Raoul smiled.

"Of course not, Christine," he said softly. "What a person does once doesn't make them evil. He may have left our lives now, but you have your precious memories, the wonderful times when he taught you, and I would never, never want you to lose those." She smiled up at him, stood on tiptoes, and planted a small kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, my love…" she whispered. "Thank you…"

**So what did you think? Please leave me a review, I don't care how short. I just want to know what you guys think, so I know whether to bother continuing or not!**


	2. Bliss

**Hi all, Beth here! So here is chapter two...dundundun! I hope you are finding the story okay, I will try and update at least twice a week, but we will see how that goes. I haven't yet received any reviews for chapter one, so please let me know what you think, as else I have no idea whether it's worth continuing or not! Thanks!**

**So here we go…**

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**Chapter Two:**

**Bliss**

Christine gazed tenderly up at Raoul, thrilled with his little speech that he had just made. She was over the moon that he would let her continue her remembrance of her Angel, even though he had just made such a dramatic exit of their lives. Her worst nightmare would have been Raoul refusing to let her remember him at all, and forcing her out of her music…his music…and making her give up her singing. She smiled at Raoul again, and planted another small kiss on his other cheek. Raoul lifted her chin up with his forefinger.

"I know how much the opera means to you, Christine…" he began. Christine's heart sank. She had just assumed that he would let her continue her singing; he had never actually said as much. Of course, that was the main thing that had linked her with her Angel…she supposed it was only natural that Raoul would want to rid her of that link, however much he may care about her. She drew in a breath, readying herself for the devastation that she was sure his next words would hold.

"Yes?" she whispered, trying not to cry. Raoul looked down at her, an air of puzzlement about his gaze.

"Christine…why are you crying?" he asked, concern filling his eyes. Christine couldn't help but stop and study his eyes. She had never really noticed them before, but now she stared intensely at them, she could see just how extraordinarily coloured they were. No painter could ever truly capture their beauty; perhaps they could get the colour itself, but not the life and soul that shone through them. They were such a pale blue, almost icy, and completely clear. Christine could understand what people meant when they talked about the eyes being windows to the soul. When she looked in Raoul's eyes, she could see straight through them and see all the things he cared about and loved: his brother Philippe, his parents, his estate…and herself. She could see herself reflected in his eyes, and not just literally. By one look, she could see all the concern and love welling up in Raoul's eyes, and it thrilled her. All she'd ever wanted was for someone to really care about her. Of course, her father had been there, but as soon as he died when she was just ten years old, she had barely ever seen this kind of concern in anyone's eyes. When Madame Giry had taken her in, she knew that she cared about her. But as Christine got older, the type of concern and love that she wished for had morphed into a different type of love; the more romantic, sensual type. No one had really fulfilled that need…even her Angel, whose eyes reflected love…but not the type she imagined. But now here were two ice-blue pools of love staring at her, and she could hardly believe it.

"Christine?" Raoul's voice prompted her out of her thoughts. "Are…are you alright? You're not thinking about…that _thing_, are you? He's gone, Christine! Gone, so _we_ can be together! What are you so upset about?" Christine smiled through her tears, and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Raoul…" she trailed off. Raoul's face darkened.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. Christine tried (and failed) to stifle a laugh at his theatrical expression.

"When you said…you know how much the opera means to me, I thought…I thought…I thought you were going to tell me I had to leave it," she looked up at him beseechingly. "But that's not what you were going to say, is it? Please tell me it wasn't!" Christine grabbed the lace on the sleeve of her wedding dress and began to fiddle with it; simultaneously the rate of her speech went up significantly. "I could never do that, Raoul. I'm sorry if it's what you want, but I can't give up singing. Music…singing…it's my life, and I can't leave it behind by becoming a Vicomtess. I…I love you, Raoul. But if this is what you require for me to become your wife, I'm afraid…I cannot accept you. If this is what you want for me, you don't know me, and I shall return to being the opera's prima donna without you." Christine was slightly out of breath from her declaration, and it was all Raoul could do not to laugh.

The fierce way that she gazed at him, coupled with her slightly open mouth and panting, melted down all his defences. Before Raoul could think twice, he kissed her hard on the lips, letting his hands slide round to the small of her back. He felt her tense, probably in shock, and then she relaxed into the kiss, resting her hands on his chest, as all around them silence prevailed, apart from the occasional drip of water, or lap of the lake against the shore far behind them. As Raoul pulled away from Christine, he saw her eyes open, and they stared at him in wonder. Two green orbs peered out at him, framed by her ivory skin and slightly auburn curls, and he felt himself slipping further and further in love with her. Christine lifted her middle three fingers to his cheek, hesitantly, and he gently took her hand as she caressed the skin of his right cheek, carefully probing the cut that the monster had inflicted on him. Raoul winced ever so slightly, and she jerked her hand away, apologies written all over her face and in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Raoul…I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered. Raoul shook his head, dismissing her concern.

"Does that answer your previous question?" he said softly. "I love you, Christine, and I would never take you away from what you love. Why the hell would you even think something like that?" Christine looked down sheepishly.

"I don't know," she muttered, feeling foolish. "But thank you, Raoul." He smiled at her, and then felt in his trouser pocket. His finger closed around the object that he sought, and he ran his free hand over her upper arm.

"But I believe, my love, there is one more formality for us to attend to…" he said, a smile playing on his lips. Christine tilted her head slightly, looking more than a little confused. Raoul smiled; her naivety was so sweet. He slowly took a step backwards, and then lowered himself to one knee. She gasped.

"Would you, Miss Christine Daae, do me the honour of becoming my lawfully wedded wife, mine to have and to hold, until death do us part?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly with emotion. The shock and love on her face was plain to see, and she knelt down to his eye level, taking his hand forcefully.

"Yes! Yes, my love, a hundred times over!" And this time it was her turn to kiss him and take him by surprise. She moved so fast that Raoul lost his balance and fell backwards, with her landing on top of him, still kissing him. They lay like that for a few minutes, with no words for each other but "I love you", whispered over and over, and broken up by fervent kisses. Amongst their laughter, they only had eyes for each other, and did not see the watery golden pools gazing out from the shadows, that blinked once, and then disappeared into the blackness of the cellars…

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***GASP* So Erik is not dead and forgotten as a certain happy couple hoped! I know there is R/C fluff at the minute, but I do promise that it will turn out to be E/C eventually! You just have to be patient! Please leave me a review to let me know what you thought of it, any constructive criticism welcome! Just please don't be too harsh, and if you are, try and say it tactfully! Thank you so much just for reading, but I would love some feedback too! You guys are all amazing! **


	3. Declaration

**Well I have received some lovely reviews for chapter two…please keep them coming! I love to know what you think, although some seem to want more fop bashing! I promise that I don't like Raoul either, but he somehow weaselled his way into my story and not as a villain! So sorry to all those who hate Raoul and want him to die…I do too, but for some reason not in this story. But as I said before, it WILL end up as E/C eventually, don't worry! And I'm sorry we are not seeing much of Erik yet, but he will be back soon…anyway, here I present chapter three!**

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**Chapter Three:**

**Declaration**

As Christine drew away from Raoul after a few minutes, she sat back on her knees and surveyed him. His hair was slightly tousled from where she had entangled her hands, but his eyes shone with happiness. It brought a slight leap to her heart to know that she was the source of this happiness, as she had always longed to be. She watched him as he straightened the collar of his shirt, and he smiled up at her.

"Of course, you never actually took your ring…" he teased, and Christine slapped him playfully on the hand. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to…" Christine folded her arms and pouted like a toddler. Raoul rolled his eyes. "Well, if you insist…I suppose…" He rose to his feet and took both her hands in his. He felt in his pocket again, and brought out the band for her to see.

As soon as Christine laid eyes on her engagement ring, she could not suppress a gasp. It was so beautiful, she could hardly believe it. Raoul had such different tastes in beauty than her Angel had done…with her Angel, everything was black and gothic, which did hold beauty, but Raoul loved the light, the fun of life, and summer. All this love was clearly evident in the ring he presented to her. It was so different to the ring that her Angel had forced onto her finger. Her Angel's had been a thick black band, probably made of titanium, although Christine didn't know very much about precious metals. It had looked too masculine on her, despite only being taken from his little finger, and made her feel rather like she was wearing shackles rather than a ring. But the delicacy and the care with which Raoul must have picked this ring shone through. It was a simple silver band, although Christine suspected it was more likely white gold or platinum, knowing Raoul's exacting standards, and in the middle were set three gems, all in a line. There was a slightly larger green stone in the middle, probably an emerald, that was so clear that she could see the buttons of Raoul's shirt through it. Set to either side were two slightly smaller gems, that were such a pale blue they were almost completely clear. It reminded Christine of summertime, and the two blue stones were almost the same colour as Raoul's eyes, although his eyes were a slightly darker blue. It was just what Christine had always dreamed of wearing on her finger, and she would be a proud bearer of it. She looked up at Raoul with teary eyes.

"Raoul, it's…it's so beautiful," she said quietly. "I can't…I don't even know what to say. Raoul, it must have cost a small fortune! Are you sure…is it really mine?" She looked up at him with wide eyes, and Raoul laughed.

"Nothing less for my Christine!" he chuckled, and scooped her up into his arms. Christine felt a slight twinge in her heart. "My Christine" he had called her. Only one person ever called her that, but he was gone. Christine felt immediately guilty and angry at herself for thinking of her Angel. Raoul had every right to call her his, for what else was she? Her Angel was long gone, and besides, she had never felt any romantic attachment to him anyway. She was Raoul's now. Raoul must have felt her tense in his arms, for he stopped and looked down at her, his eyes brimming with concern.

"What is it?" Christine shook herself.

"Nothing, darling. I was just…I was just thinking about…everything that's happened. It's nothing." Raoul smiled down at her.

"Of course. How could you not think about it? But I think perhaps we should return to the surface. It's getting late." There it was again. Her Angel used to call it "the surface". "Perhaps we could even tell Andre and Firmin the happy news!" Christine beamed at him, shaking away all feelings of regret, and squeezed her arms round his neck and shoulders.

"And Madame Giry and Meg!" she said, and Raoul nodded his assent. "Take me to them!" she cried with a laugh, flinging one of her arms out from around his neck and out in a theatrical fashion. Raoul laughed with her, and together they began to make their way back to the surface, out of the cellars.

* * *

Meg Giry was pacing around her bedchamber in distress. It was past midnight, and neither Raoul nor Christine had yet returned. She wondered what was happening to them down there…and then shivered and tried not to think about it. Her overactive imagination, coupled with the flickering candles emitting the only light in her room, did nothing to improve the situation. She tried to distract herself by humming the aria that Christine had first sung, the one from "Hannibal", but ended up just getting frustrated because she couldn't reach all the notes. Just as she was about to give up and try and get some more sleep, she thought she heard a knock on the door. Meg looked at the door for some time, trying to determine whether or not she had imagined it. But then it came again, and this time accompanied by a small whisper.

"Meg?" it said. "Meg, are you there?" Meg was uncertain; she couldn't quite recognize the voice because it was so quiet. But the voice's next words made her heart leap. "It's Christine. And Raoul's here too. May we come in? I'm so sorry if we woke you…" Meg bounded over to the door and opened it to find Raoul and Christine stood hand-in-hand, both beaming with happiness.

"What…?" Meg started to say, but the couple in front of her looked at one another, and then Christine spoke in a hurried tone.

"We're getting married! Meg, Raoul and I are engaged!" she gushed, and gripped her friend's hands fervently. "Can you believe it?" Meg could do nothing but gape at the pair in front of her. She had never seen Christine so happy!

"Oh my goodness, that's wonderful news!" she cried, but was still more than a little confused. "But the Phantom…he took you…Raoul, you followed with my mother…did he let you go…what happened?" she stuttered. Christine giggled.

"Oh, Meg…I hardly care anymore. But Raoul and I are engaged to be married, and everything is going to be wonderful!" Meg began to usher them down the corridor to her mother's room.

"I'll wake Mother, and you can tell us both exactly what happened!" she said excitedly, and off they went down the hall, chattering excitedly, with one of Christine's hands in Raoul's, and the other looped through Meg's.

Nobody heard the barely audible whisper of "Oh, Christine…" from behind Meg's door, and no one saw the golden eyes that watched until the party were out of sight, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night, seeking solace from the cruel world that merely sought to break his heart over and over…

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**Dundundun… So another crazy ending! Erik will be making an appearance in the next couple of chapters, but I just wanted to establish some more relationships first. Again, please review and let me know what you think, I love to hear from all of you no matter what! Thanks so much to the previous reviewers, followers and favouriters…it means a lot to me! Thank you all again, you're all great!**


	4. Plans

**Thank you all so much for the reviews on the last few chapters, they do mean a lot to me! Thanks to all who have favourited and followed. I hope you're finding the story enjoyable, and although I know not everyone is a fan of Raoul (I'm certainly not), it will end up as E/C eventually. You just have to wait! Anyway, without further ado, here I present chapter four!**

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**Chapter Four:**

**Plans**

Antoinette Giry was laid in bed on her side, facing the wall and trying to sleep. Each time she looked at the clock on her bedside cabinet, the hands seemed only to have moved a few seconds, although she felt as if she had been tossing and turning restlessly for hours. She couldn't stop worrying about Erik…about Christine…about Raoul, and it had kept her awake all night. She felt herself torn in two: part of her wanted Raoul to go and sort out Erik once and for all, rescue Christine and to marry her; the other half didn't want any harm to come to Erik. She knew she shouldn't, but she did still care about him as the son she never had. Ever since he had come to the opera, fifteen years or so ago now, she had always felt a strange attachment to him. Nothing romantic, of course…she was old enough to be his mother! But she had always felt an obligation to look after him and look out for him, and if the mob were to hurt him in any way…or kill him…she could never forgive herself for not being there to help him.

But Christine had done nothing to deserve this hideous turn of events. She felt herself inflicting the blame on herself again: she should have been there to protect Christine; she should have noticed Erik's growing affection for her; she should have…she should have done so many things, but she hadn't. She'd let Erik down, she'd let Christine down… She wasn't sure about Raoul. The young Vicomte seemed to have no boundaries in his love for Christine, and it turned him into a fearless man. Antoinette couldn't quite decide whether she admired him for heading down to Erik's lair, or whether she thought he was a complete and utter fool. Perhaps a mix of the two.

She sighed again and turned over, and was so terrified by what she saw that she swore her heart stopped beating for five seconds.

"Ah, Madame…" Antoinette's breathing was heavy with fear as she beheld Erik stood before her. As per usual, she hadn't heard or seen him enter; he would have used one of his secret passages in the wall to reach her. He was dressed in his usual attire: his black suit and long black coat, complete with a black fedora. Unsurprisingly, his white mask taunted her from beneath the brim of his hat. It was cold and merciless, and made her shiver. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and sat up, suddenly feeling oddly vulnerable in her nightgown with her hair braided down her back. She stood up to face him, taking a deep breath.

"I thought I'd seen the last of you," she said quietly. "That mob looked very…fierce." It sounded pathetic even to her. Erik just laughed hollowly.

"Madame, after all these years, do you think I can be overpowered so easily by a group of children? They were very easy to distract. Smash three mirrors and you've got them all confused. By the time they've explored all three passages, I was already making my way up the path on the other side of the lake. Or, at least…" He trailed off. Antoinette could see he was trying to appear indifferent, but fifteen years had taught her all his little idiosyncrasies.

"Erik?" she prompted him. "What happened?" His golden eyes looked at her sadly, and she gasped. "Christine…?"

"Yes, Christine," he said, feigning impatience. "She was there. With her…with her boy. They…they…" He could hardly bring himself to say it. "She kissed him," he said simply. Antoinette felt her heart sink. Christine had clearly broken Erik's heart.

"But why did you come here?" she asked. Erik brushed away her question with a wave of his hand.

"There is no time now," he said. "Christine and…that fop are coming here now, with Meg. They're engaged and they want to tell you…" He mumbled quickly and slipped back into the shadows, while Antoinette tried to erase the fear and shock from her face and get ready to greet the happy couple. Just a couple of seconds after Erik disappeared, there was a gentle knock at the door, and she opened it barely before the tap was finished.

Before her stood her daughter, Raoul and Christine. She noted immediately how one of Christine's arms was threaded through Meg's, which was not unusual, but that her other one was gripping tight hold of Raoul's. She also saw a slight flash of a jewel on Christine's ring finger, which she deduced to be an engagement ring. She wasn't quite sure what to make of all of it – it certainly seemed very sudden. But she forced a smile and held Christine by the shoulders lovingly.

"My dear, what wonderful news!" she cried. "Do come in, all of you! Raoul…you must consider yourself the luckiest man in the world, to have such a girl on your arm!"

"I do, Madame," he said fervently. "I do, believe me. To think she is mine after all…after all that is happened…is quite a wonderful thought!" Antoinette heard Erik growl slightly from the shadows, and tried not to show any trace of fear on her face.

"But, Madame…" Christine looked confused. "How did you know about our engagement? We have barely said a word to you, and yet you said about it the moment you opened the door. How…?" Antoinette laughed.

"Oh Christine!" she said, tucking an unruly curl back behind Christine's ear, where it adamantly refused to stay. "Being married to a detective for twenty five years does have its advantages, you know! The powers of observation…they teach you a lot." Christine smiled. "But of course, my dear, it's your engagement. Tell me all about it!" Christine took a deep breath, and then began to recount the tale of what happened in Erik's lair…

* * *

Erik was fuming with rage. To think that fop had called her 'mine' made his blood boil and his fists clench. His breathing rate increased and he stormed through his passages, trying to walk off his rage. Of course, his rage didn't end at Raoul. He wanted to be angry with Christine too. She had looked so happy, with her hand in her boy's; she couldn't stop smiling. Erik had never been more jealous of anyone in his entire life. What did Raoul give her that he could not? Of course, he knew the answer to that. Raoul kissed her, and showered her in gifts that reminded her of light and summer, not music and darkness like Erik's presents did. He had noticed that his titanium ring was long banished from her finger, replaced by a delicate band, not dissimilar to the one that Erik had picked out for Christine. The box was still in his pocket, and he stopped to take it out and look at it. A crimson ruby sat in the middle of a gold band, framed by two jet black onyx stones. It summed up Christine: it was delicate yet beautiful and dark at the same time. The boy knew nothing about her. He probably didn't even know what her favourite colour was. Erik knew, of course he did. Red. That was why his ring for her had a ruby in its centre. He considered throwing the ring away, getting as far away as possible from her, from Raoul…and from him damned self. But he looked at it and couldn't see past its beauty, so he put it back in its box and replaced it in his coat pocket. He couldn't let her go that easily. That ring would stay in his pocket until the day he died, if it had to. There would only ever be one wearer of that ring, and he was determined to watch over her and protect her even now, even if she believed he was dead. A life without Christine…Erik didn't like to think about it.

Yes, he had always been her Angel. Why should he stop now? Erik stopped in front of a mirror, although he could barely see his reflection in the dark. Two golden orbs stared out at him, his favourite feature. Yes, he would continue to watch over her. He would always be her golden-eyed angel…

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**So Erik is back! Please leave me a review and let me know what you think of the characters, the description, etc. I don't care how short it is, I just want to hear from you guys – you make all the hard work worthwhile! Thanks again, and I should be updating in a couple of days! I love you all!**


	5. Hauntings

**Thank you all for reading the last chapter and I hope you're not finding the story too dull! Sorry about the change of pen name, but I feel that the one I now have is more appropriate for me! Also, I'm sorry it's been a while since the last update, but here we go anyway…**

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**Chapter Five:**

**Hauntings**

Christine woke to the sound of a small tap on her bedroom door. About two and a half months had passed since she and Raoul had announced their engagement, but she still never took her ring off, and still expected to wake up every morning and find that it was all a dream, or that Raoul would be standing over her with a smug expression on his face, laughing at her for being such a gullible child for putting real faith in his love for her. So this morning, like any other, she paused for a second before looking down hesitantly at her ring finger, just to check if the silver band was still there. It was, for today at least, so she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. She quickly pulled on her dressing robe and headed over to the door, before opening it a crack. A young messenger boy stood outside that she did not recognize, and she opened the door a little wider.

"Miss Daae?" he asked nervously. Christine's heart rate sped up slightly; was something wrong?

"Yes, that's me," she said, perhaps a little too quickly. "What is it?" The boy looked nervous, and she grew slightly impatient. "Well?"

"Begging your pardon, mademoiselle, but I have a message for you from your…er…" the boy faltered. "A message from the Vicomte de Chagny. He said to inform you, with his sincerest apologies, that he has been called out to Versailles for a business trip, so he will have to cancel your afternoon outing today. He said he will be back late tomorrow evening, so may not get the chance to see you until Friday." Christine felt a wave of disappointment come over here.

"Oh…" she said wistfully, and the messenger looked worried. "Is that all?" she asked.

"Well…er…" the boy stuttered. Christine narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.

"There is something else, isn't there?" she whispered.

"Er…I probably shouldn't tell you this…" he said, and Christine just raised an eyebrow and beckoned him closer. "Well, he looked awful flustered, miss. Just snapped this message at me and then left. He didn't look too happy." Christine was worried now, but quickly dismissed the boy, thanking him for his trouble, and crossed back over to her bed. She sank down onto the sheets and flattened her palms together, resting her chin on top of them as she often did when she was thinking. She wondered what was so urgent for Raoul to go rushing off to Versailles, especially with their upcoming wedding just a few short weeks away. It was probably nothing, but it was the fact that the messenger had mentioned the fact that he had looked flustered when he spoke to him, and had snapped the message at him. Raoul never snapped at anyone, no matter how much they were annoying him, so she wondered what had caused the sudden change in temperament. Now that her fiancé had left for a day or so, she began to feel a bit alone. She and Raoul had barely spent an hour apart since the encounter in her Angel's lair, and without him she felt rather unprotected…as if her Angel could come back to her while Raoul was gone. Christine breathed in sharply and turned her head quickly, sensing an invisible presence. But of course, there was nothing there. She was just imagining things and creeping herself out; perhaps she needed to distract herself. If she busied herself with preparation for her wedding over the next couple of days, it would take her mind off her Angel and stop her feeling lonely. Yes, that's what she would do.

She quickly discarded her robe and nightgown, and changed into her undergarments. She stood staring at her wardrobe for a few minutes feeling rather reluctant to open it, but she shook herself. She was too old to believe in the monster who lived in little girls' wardrobes; that was a story that Raoul's mother used to tell them to get them to stay in bed all night. She took firm hold of the handles and pulled. There. It was empty apart from the rows of dresses sat looking at her. After a few minutes of deliberation, she pulled out a simple apple-green dress, embroidered with black lace around the square neckline, cuffs and hem. She grabbed a thin black belt from the bottom of her wardrobe and fastened it around her waist, breaking up the green of her dress. She had always loved this dress. She loved the brightness of the green that contrasted with the black lace: the green reminded her of summer and light, while the black represented the darkness…the darkness she had lost with her Angel. But she tried not to be sad as she thought of him; he may have been dead, but she could remember him with the small touches on her garments or the jewellery she wore. Christine smiled at her reflection in the mirror, and decided to twirl her hair into an updo for once. She grabbed her curls and twisted them until they came together into a tight bun on the back of her head, and loosed a few curls to frame her face.

There. She was happy with how she looked today. She smiled at the mirror once again and did a small twirl, raising her arms above her head. As she came to a stop, she thought she saw two golden orbs looking out at her from her mirror, but they vanished just as soon as they appeared. She stared at the glass for a few minutes, but nothing happened. Christine shook her head…it must have just been her imagination. She bent down to find a pair of shoes to wear with her outfit, and settled on a pair of black flat shoes. They were patent and matched the lace on her dress and her belt, and she grabbed them and put them by the door. One last touch, she picked up a pair of onyx drop earrings and fastened them quickly in her ears. Just as she took her hand away from her ear, she heard a whisper of "Christine…" echo through her chamber, and she spun around, scared. It had sounded like…but it couldn't be…he was long dead…

"Angel…?" she called hesitantly. "That's not…you're not…are you?" She waited, but again, nothing happened. She began to wonder if she hadn't imagined the whole thing. Yes, that must have been it. She was getting paranoid and on edge without Raoul, and she was imagining things.

"Don't be so stupid," she scolded herself, and headed towards her bedroom door, quickly slipping her shoes on as she went. She made a mental plan of where she was going to go that morning: first of all, she would head to Meg's room, wake her up, and together they could go into the town and look in the shops for her wedding dress. They'd come back to the opera house for luncheon, and then she'd probably go to see Madame Giry and ask her about how she thought she should wear her hair for the wedding. That evening, she thought she would head to the stage to see the rehearsals for the new opera, and would probably sing for an hour or two when everyone had left. After that, she'd come back to her room and get some sleep.

Satisfied, she put a hand on the doorknob of her room and stepped outside, and began to head down the corridor towards Meg's room. She knocked quietly, but got no answer, so she tried the door. It was unlocked. She took a careful step inside.

What she saw, sat quietly on Meg's bed, scared her enough to flip her stomach. His long black coat, his hat, his black leather gloves…everything screamed of him. But it couldn't be…could it? Christine was so confused, and went to scream. But she was so frightened that no sound came out, and her cry stuck in her throat.

Erik, sat on the bed, jerked his head up when he heard Christine enter, and tried to still his racing heart. She was looking radiant in her apple-green.

"You can't…please tell me…what are you doing here? How…?" she stuttered, and Erik stood up, smiling in amusement at her bewilderment, and laced a long finger under her chin.

"So many questions, Miss Daae," he said formally, noting with disdain the engagement ring that was still on her finger. "But am I really here at all? Could I not just be…a figment of your imagination…?" Quick as a flash, he produced a small needle from the lining of his coat. She looked at it warily, clearly not understanding what it was.

"Oh, my dear…" he said quietly. "I may just be one of the creations of your own mind. After this, who shall know the difference between reality and fiction…?" And he jabbed the needle into the top of her arm. Christine stared at it for a moment, not understanding, but before she even had any time to think, her vision was going blurry and her head felt fuzzy. She felt her legs slip from beneath her, and the strong arms of her Angel caught her. She felt a slight throbbing in her arm, and then everything went black.

Erik watched her slip into unconsciousness, overwhelmed by feelings of guilt. He had to see her, just once…but then there was the question of how to make her forget. He felt terrible for injecting the contents of that syringe into her, but it was necessary. Only then could she ever possibly pass him off as a figment of her imagination. He laid her down gently on Meg's bed and planted a small kiss on her forehead, before turning round to leave. He stole one last look at her, already starting to toss and turn restlessly, and whispered his final goodbye.

"Goodbye, my Christine… Pleasant nightmares."

* * *

**Dundundun! What's going on with Erik?! As always, please review and let me know what you think! :)**


	6. Delusions

**I'm sorry if you thought the last chapter went a bit crazy (I know I certainly did!), but when I sat down to write, that's what decided to appear on my computer screen. I suppose I just followed where my imagination led me! Anyway, sorry to any of those who didn't like the last plot twist. I'm not sure if you're liking this story or not because of the lack of reviews, although nearly five hundred views, so please drop me just a couple of lines to let me know if you're enjoying it or not, else there's not much point in carrying on! Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

**Delusions**

Everything was orange. It seemed a strange colour for everything to be, considering that most things in the world weren't as bright and vibrant as the citrus fruit that the colour was named after. Christine felt very strange, as if she was floating through a vortex made of nothing but orange. Every so often, to either side of her, she would see a few stars twinkling at her. She couldn't yet work out if they were friendly stars or not. They looked fairly appealing, and she stretched out her hand to try and reach one, but she couldn't move. She tried to move her legs, but they wouldn't move either. She couldn't even reach a hand to her throat to see if she could talk. She tried to open her mouth, but her jaw felt sticky, and by the time she'd been able to open it, no sound would come out anyway. She tried to scream, but nothing happened, so she just tried to talk. Nothing. A whisper? Not a chance. Then she thought that she could try to sing, and to her delight, a long, pure note came out of her mouth. She smiled in satisfaction, although she was still distressed that she couldn't move. And now, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the stars starting to move towards her. As she swung round to try and face them, she was stuck, and couldn't see anything. Christine started to struggle to break free, but she couldn't. In fact, the more she struggled, the tighter her invisible bonds tried to hold her in, until she began to cry with fear and frustration. The stars were still moving towards her, and as they started to move into her line of sight, she could see them more clearly, and she stopped crying swiftly, overcome with horror. Each 'star', as she had thought they were, was a tiny shard of a mirror, but rather than reflecting her own face, she saw all the people she cared about in them. They all wore horrible, sneering expressions, and they all seemed to be laughing at her. She could see Carlotta, Andre, Firmin…and her Angel. They all pointed and laughed at her, chanting insults until it all just turned into a blur of shouts. She tried to scream, but again, no sound came out.

And then, finally, she saw Raoul, Madame Giry and Meg coming towards her. They were in a small bubble of their own, and they smiled invitingly, holding their arms out to her, as if to embrace her. Christine felt a surge of desperation as Raoul reached out for her, and she waited for him to pick her up and carry her away. But as she waited, she heard a rough sound of metal against metal, and Raoul's hand had somehow transformed into a knife, which he was holding out cruelly against her face. Just as the tip of the knife punctured her skin, she finally mustered up the strength to scream, a long hideous animal cry that reverberated against the orange of the vortex she was trapped in. Raoul just smiled disdainfully and disappeared, taking the orange glow, her friends and her enemies with him.

Christine was still screaming as she felt the solidness of a hard wooden floor beneath her legs. She was knelt on the floor, but it was pitch black so she had no idea of where she was, until, out of the darkness, a small white glow appeared directly in front of her. As she focused more fully on it, it grew clearer and revealed itself to be a mask. Her Angel's mask. She tried to shield her face, but every time she looked away, there grew more, until she was being eternally tormented and surrounded by empty masks. And then, eventually, she saw her Angel step out of the darkness and walk towards her. She backed away in fear until she felt her back hit the wall of masks, while her Angel just smiled hideously and planted a kiss on her mouth. He was ice cold, and she screamed again. All the while, he seemed to be talking to her, but his mouth wasn't moving.

"Just your imagination…" he seemed to be saying, over and over. She cowered in a corner, trying to get away from him, but he just moved closer and closer to her. She was trapped. Christine screamed as loudly as she could, hoping that someone…anyone would come to her and save her, but she knew this time it would be different. She could feel her Angel peeling her dress away from her, but still she didn't raise her head from her knees or open her eyes. If only she could scream loud enough…

Anya, one of the youngest ballet girls, was walking back from the stage to Madame Giry's dressing room. The ballet mistress had asked Anya to go and see her after practice, and she felt nervous, but also excited. She wondered what was going to happen. With Madame Giry, she had learned by now that it was either going to be commendation, or a biting remark about how badly she had performed that day. Anya prayed it wouldn't be the latter. As she rounded the corner that led down to Madame's chamber, she thought she could hear screaming from one of the girls' dressing rooms. She paused, trying to work out where the sound was coming from, and singled out the room of Meg Giry, Madame's daughter. She looked round to see if anyone else was around that she could ask for help, and to her delight saw Meg herself merrily skipping down the hall. She too noticed the screams coming from her room, and saw Anya. Anya shrugged, indicating that she had no idea what was going on.

"I don't know what's happening…I just came round the corridor and there was all this screaming…" Meg just nodded, seeming much older to Anya at that moment.

"I see…" she muttered, looking warily at the door. "Shall we…er…shall we go and see what's happening? Together, I mean?" Anya felt glad that she didn't have to go in by herself, and she was also glad that Meg wouldn't have to investigate alone. She gave a small nod, a little too nervous to say anything, and Meg gave her a reassuring smile. The older girl put one hand on the door handle, and firmly opened the door.

The sight that met her eyes terrified her. There, lying on her bed was Christine, writhing around on the covers in a hideous fashion. Meg rushed over to her and shook her shoulder, but Christine just screamed harder and thrashed around, almost catching Meg on the nose with her flailing arm.

"Christine!" Meg said firmly. "Christine! You have to wake up! I don't know what's happened, but you need to wake up! I can't bear seeing you like this!"

Christine only screamed again, and this time Meg distinctly heard words.

"No, please!" she cried. "I'm sorry I left you…just not this! No!" she yelled, and began to sob. Meg began to cry; she couldn't understand what was happening to her friend. Why wouldn't she wake up? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anya hovering awkwardly by the door, and looked up sharply.

"Water, now." Anya nodded and ran off down the hallway. Meg just continued to stare at her friend, trying to fathom what in the world had come over her. She saw that Christine was burning up, and tried to brush her hair out of her face, but she only succeeded in making Christine cry out another animalistic scream and bury her head in the pillow.

A few minutes later, Anya returned clutching a bowl of iced water and a cloth. Meg nodded her approval, and stationed Anya at Christine's side, dousing her forehead with the cold water. After a while, Christine stopped thrashing and only uttered the occasional moan. When half an hour had passed, Meg told Anya she could go, and that she'd let her know if anything happened. Anya just nodded and disappeared, secretly glad that she could leave the suffering young woman's side.

"Oh, Christine…" Meg whispered. "Whatever happened to you? I only left you for fifteen minutes…" Slowly, the minutes ticked by and Meg began to feel tired. Before she knew it, she was drifting into sleep, her head dropping forwards onto Christine's midriff.

Christine awoke with a huge gulp of air. Where was she? She prayed that she wasn't still in the black room populated by thousands of masks. But no, she could see Meg looking at her in concern and joy.

"Christine! You're back! I'm so sorry, I must have fallen asleep on you…I was supposed to be looking after you…I'm sorry!" she stammered, and smiled at her. Christine just looked back blankly. Meg's words weren't making any sense to her; her head still felt incredibly strange.

"Christine?" Meg looked concerned. "Can you hear me?" Christine managed to make a small nod, and Meg smiled again.

"I…what happened?" Christine tried to say, but her words came out slurred and she couldn't control herself as she fell forwards onto Meg's lap. She just wanted to sleep again. Maybe there would be time to talk later, but right now she just wanted to sleep, to let herself feel fully conscious again and return to Sweden, the land of her birth, where she could be with her father again, and have not a care in the world…

Meg started to panic when she saw her friend had fallen asleep again, but relaxed slightly when she saw the steady rise and fall of Christine's chest, and the fact that she wasn't screaming out like she had been before. She decided to quickly run down to her mother and bring her to Christine; perhaps she could help her in some way.

In about half a minute, Meg was knocking on Madame Giry's door. She stood, balancing on her tiptoes and then her flat feet anxiously, until her mother finally came to the door. Seeing her daughter's unease, she seized her by the shoulders.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?" Meg took a deep breath and tried to explain the situation as best and as clearly as she could. When she had finished, Antoinette nodded and rushed down the corridor with Meg in tow. Christine was just where Meg had left her; sleeping peacefully on the bed. She shifted and moaned slightly as Antoinette sat on the bed, but did not stir. Antoinette quickly took her pulse, felt her breath, and nodded briskly.

"As I suspected. The poor girl has been drugged." Meg gasped. "And no, before you say anything, I have no idea who it was. It was a damn powerful sedative though, probably Propofol. She'll be perfectly fine but needs to sleep it off for a couple of days." Meg stared at her mother in awe.

"How…?" she asked, and Antoinette merely shrugged.

"Your father's closest friend used to work for the army." Meg looked blank. "He was an army doctor – helped out with invalids and suchlike. He once gave me a crash-course in basic diagnosis and first aid. I never thought it would turn out this useful, though…" Meg just looked back at Christine, lying peacefully on her bed. She couldn't imagine who would do something like this, and what possible motive they could have had.

"We had best leave her be," he mother said, jerking her out of her thoughts. "In about thirty-six hours she'll be absolutely fine again. Come along." Antoinette left swiftly, and Meg followed her, just taking one last look back at Christine asleep, with so many unanswered questions flitting round her head.

**Please, please, PLEASE leave a review to let me know what you think! I hope you are all still enjoying it! :)**


	7. Surprise

**Chapter Seven:**

**Surprise**

The coach wheels rattled below Raoul and he swayed a little in time with its lilting movement. He had been sat in his carriage for the best part of five hours over the course of the day, on his own for virtually the whole time, but for once he didn't mind the silence; he was perfectly content in his own company. He was glad for the time he had to think about what he was going to do when he got back to Paris. He was delighted that his business trip had been a good day or two shorter than he had been expecting, as it meant that he could return to Christine sooner. Raoul hadn't had much chance to think about his fiancée over the past day, so occupied he had been with his work that he had hardly had a spare moment to think about anything other than business reports, finance and suchlike. But now he had a chance to think properly about Christine, and it made him smile to imagine her surprised face when he turned up back at her side so much earlier than expected. Raoul could see her now: one of her slightly auburn curls would probably be escaping from one of its hairpins; her green eyes would light up and her mouth would fall open into a small 'o' shape, as it did in the most adorable way whenever something took her by surprise. In person, she knew that she would be a hundred times more beautiful than his imagination told him, despite that seeming impossible. He loved everything about her face: her eyes, her lips, her hair…

However much Raoul tried not to think too much about her body, for it was not proper for a gentleman, sometimes he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help but admire the healthy way in which she filled out her dresses, but she was most definitely not fat. The curves of her assets were impossible not to notice, and yet she still had such a fresh, youthful look about her. She was so incredibly oblivious to the hold that she held over Raoul, although he had no doubt that she loved him. He wondered what features of him she loved. He loved all her little mannerisms: her laugh and the way she would sometimes raise her arms above her head and do a small twirl, especially if she was happy. He loved the small pout that she adopted while she was thinking, when she would press her palms together, rest her chin on top of her fingertips and shut her eyes. He loved the way her eyes would open slowly when she came to a realisation, and how she would hit her forehead with the palm of her hand if she had missed something really obvious. He loved the way she dressed and how all her accessories and jewellery always had to be somehow coordinated. He was glad that she was not the type of girl to wear low-cut, revealing gowns in seductive shades of scarlet or royal blue, and that she didn't feel the need to have diamonds dripping from every bare patch of skin on display. Those types of women were just asking for trouble. He knew that Christine preferred the simpler styles of dress and stuck to more natural, light hues like green, peach or cyan. But he also knew how she liked to wear splashes of black, presumably to remind her of her tutor and the relationship that they had once shared. Raoul had yet to work out quite what their relationship had been. He had clearly been besotted with her to the point of madness, but Christine always seemed to view him more as a father figure than a romantic interest. Raoul was glad of that; the last thing he wanted was a bride who was pining for another man who was long dead and gone. But he had no problem with her having fond memories of times with him. After all, it wasn't like anything was going to happen now, was it? The Phantom was long gone, killed by the mob he supposed. And thank goodness for that. At least he wouldn't be around any longer to spoil his and Christine's perfect new life together.

A quick jolt from beneath him let him know that his coach had arrived, and to confirm, the driver, Alfonso, put his head in through the window of Raoul's seating area.

"Here we are again, monsieur," he said warmly. "The Opera Populaire." Raoul smiled at Alfonso – he was a very nice fellow, after all, and had served the de Chagnys for many years. He offered him his thanks and tipped him, ignoring his hearty protests, before quickly turning on his heel and walking towards the entrance of the great theatre. He shifted the bouquet of roses that he had bought Christine from the crook of his right arm to the crook of his left, and stopped just in front of the gates.

Just before he entered, he felt in the pocket of his tailcoat pocket and felt around for the small gift that he had purchased earlier. His hand finally closed around the small box that contained it, and he brought it out of his pocket and opened it, just to check that the earrings he had bought for Christine were still there. The jeweller had offered to help him pick them, but he had insisted on choosing them himself, so he could truly say that the gift had come from his heart. He had often seen Christine wearing a pair of small onyx drops, and he had endeavoured to find the loveliest pair of onyx earrings in all of France, in the hope that she could wear them too. He felt that he had succeeded, too. They were made of platinum (nothing less than perfect for his Christine), and from each hook fell a large, teardrop-shaped onyx stone, each framed by a border of tiny glittering diamonds. They were quite a simple design really, but Raoul loved the way that the black was in complete contrast to the glittering clear that surrounded them, and he felt certain that Christine would feel the same. He hoped that they would remind Christine of her tutor and Raoul at the same time, her tutor being the onyx and Raoul being the diamonds: equally precious but so different. He smiled once more at the box, shut it and put it back in his pocket, walking swiftly forwards and bounding up the steps that led to the opera house's foreboding doors.

A few minutes later, he was making his way through the long and winding corridors on the upper levels of the building, weaving through gaggles of newly hired chorus girls who were eagerly gossiping about the new production that was happening soon. Raoul kept his head down and tried to be inconspicuous, but as soon as the teens saw a handsome young man making his way through their midst, they all immediately fell to giggling and whispering to each other, most of them blushing profusely. Raoul just scowled at them and carried on towards the end of the corridor in which Madame Giry, Meg and Christine resided; he was almost shaking from excitement at the prospect of seeing Christine's surprise when he turned up in her room so much earlier than she had expected him to return. Finally, he managed to shake of the remaining straggling ballet girls and reached the door of Madame Giry's bedchamber. He thought it would be more proper to go and see Antoinette before just marching into Christine's room, however much he would have liked to just do that. Damn propriety.

He stopped in front of Antoinette's room and rapped sharply on the door – years of being brought up as a Vicomte had taught him always to knock loudly on a door, so that there would be no mistaking who it was. A few seconds later, Antoinette opened the door slightly, but opened it fully when she saw the young man standing before her.

"Raoul!" she said, perhaps too brightly. "We were not expecting you until at least tomorrow evening! What brings you back so soon?"

"My business trip finished early," Raoul explained. "It turned out it was not quite as urgent as we originally thought. We only had to sort out a few accounts of men who were being meddlesome and gambling away their fortunes, and that was that! So I thought I'd surprise you all by coming back early! Where is Christine? I would have liked to have seen her straight away, but I didn't think it would be proper to barge into her room unannounced. Could you tell me where she is?" Antoinette couldn't help smiling at Raoul – ever the gentleman. But her smile quickly faded when she thought of Christine's current state. What was she going to tell Raoul? Perhaps it would be the best course just to tell him the truth, so she took a deep breath and began.

"Christine is…rather incoherent at the moment." Raoul narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well…she…er…" she decided to cut straight to the point, so she stood up straight and looked directly at Raoul. "She has been drugged with a powerful sedative." She saw Raoul's eyes widen and a thousand questions dance on the tip of her tongue, but she held up her hand. "We don't know why, we don't know by whom…but she will be absolutely fine in a few hours. She's sleeping at the moment while the drug works its way out of her system, so she is not really in any fit state to receive any visitors at the moment." She looked at the young man apologetically. "Please understand that the same rules apply for anybody, not just you because you are a man." Raoul looked pleading.

"Could I not just poke my head round and see her anyway? Just so I know that she's perfectly fine. I don't have to wake her or talk to her or anything – that can all wait until tomorrow. I just want to confirm that what you say is true." Antoinette hesitated, but then relaxed.

"Of course, my dear. She is in Meg's room at the moment – that is where we found her. The drug appears to have been giving her the most heinous nightmares, as that is how Meg found her. She was screaming and thrashing around in a most violent manner, but we don't know who gave her the sedative, or how she got into Meg's room. We don't know anything, really." Raoul nodded, and followed Madame down the corridor to Meg's chamber.

He quickly peeked in to the sight of Christine curled up on the bed, sleeping peacefully. It was hardly believable that just a few hours ago she had been screaming and kicking in a fitful unrest.

"She doesn't look as if she's been drugged," he whispered, but the small sound made Christine's eyes flutter open. They were unfocused as they tried to make out the man stood in front of her.

"Raoul?" she whispered. "What are you doing here?" Antoinette nodded.

"She's much better than she was. Before, she couldn't even talk without slurring and falling straight back to sleep." Raoul rushed to Christine's side and took her hand.

"It's all fine, my love," he said kindly, brushing a few strands of hair away from her forehead. "You're going to be alright. Madame Giry and Meg have been looking after you." Christine looked up slowly at Antoinette.

"What…happened to me?" she asked quietly. The older woman just smiled.

"There is plenty of time for explaining later. To cut a long story short, somebody injected you with a powerful sedative – enough to knock you out for a couple of days. But as you see, you are much better now." Christine nodded heavily.

"My head…it feels funny."

"It will do for a few hours more," Antoinette reassured her. "But after that you'll be fine. You'll be up and about again as normal by dinner."

"What time is it now?" Christine asked. Raoul looked at his pocket watch.

"Half past four." He smiled at her again. "So only a couple more hours, right Madame?" Antoinette smiled and nodded. Christine's eyes were beginning to droop shut again.

"Tired…so tired…" she mumbled. Antoinette motioned to Raoul, and he kissed Christine's forehead again and stood up.

"I'll be round at seven o'clock to pick you up for dinner," he said, but received no response. Christine was asleep again. He smiled again and left the room quietly with Antoinette.

* * *

"It was horrible, Raoul! There were all these shards of glass everywhere, and then you floated towards me in a bubble, and I thought you were going to rescue me! But then you just reached out and cut my face with a knife that turned into your hand. It was awful! But at least it was just a dream, I suppose…" Christine was now talking animatedly at the dinner table. As promised, Raoul had come to collect her from her room two and a half hours after he had talked to her, and she was up and about as Antoinette had foretold. He could hardly stop smiling at her now, as she looked so much like her usual self – tucking into a large plate of chocolate tart for their dessert. There was no trace of the drunken-looking girl from twenty four hours ago, and Antoinette was pleased at the progress she'd made, and relieved that the sedative hadn't been more complex than she had originally thought. All three of the others sat at the table – Raoul, Antoinette and Meg – were smiling at the improvement in Christine. The hungry teenager inside her made an appearance as she finished her last mouthful of dessert and looked down disappointedly at her empty plate.

"Well, they do say that all good things have to come to an end…" Raoul laughed at her downbeat expression, and Antoinette sensed that her and Meg ought to leave the couple alone for half an hour or so.

"Come along, Meg!" she said briskly. "Let's give Raoul and Christine some space!" Meg smiled mischievously and followed her mother out of the room, giving Christine one more smile before closing the door.

As soon as the mother and daughter had left, Raoul turned to Christine and planted a fervent kiss on her lips. As he drew away, he saw her looking at him in surprise, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I've been waiting to do that ever since I got back," he said simply. She smiled, stood up, walked round to the back of his chair and threaded her arms round his neck, leaning into the hollow of his shoulder and closing her eyes. She sighed.

"I'd planned to go into the market yesterday with Meg and look for a wedding dress." Raoul looked up at her disappointed tone. "I never imagined…" Raoul turned his chair around and sat Christine on his lap.

"None of us did, Christine," he said firmly. "You were not to know what was going to happen. None of this is your fault. You know that, don't you?" She looked down and fiddled with her engagement ring.

"I know…" she said. "I just wonder who drugged me. Why would they want to do anything like that? I can barely remember anything from before my nightmare, apart from walking down to Meg's room to wake her up. After that, it's all orange and bubbly." She giggled despite herself. "Perhaps it was Carlotta or someone like that. She's never liked me, has she?"

"Perhaps…" said Raoul sceptically, although secretly in his mind, he thought he had quite a good idea of who could have drugged Christine.


	8. Matrimony

**Chapter Eight:**

**Matrimony**

Three weeks later, Christine was stood in front of her floor-length looking-glass, stepping into her wedding dress with Meg's assistance. As she drew the shoulders and bodice up around her torso, she caught her friend's eye in the mirror and smiled.

"I can't believe this day is actually here!" Christine gushed, almost bursting from nervous excitement. "Why is it that when you want something to come quickly, it never does?" Meg just smiled at her friend's reflection.

"You really do love him, don't you?" she asked, her smile creeping into her tone of voice. "I've never seen anyone so excited for anything! You weren't this nervous when you sung 'Think of Me' for the first time!" Christine grinned.

"I've never wanted anything so much in my life. For as long as I can remember, I've dreamed of having a wonderful wedding and marrying my true love amidst all my best friends! And now it's finally happening – I never thought my dream would actually come true!" Christine's face fell ever so slightly. "If only Papa were here to give me away…" A wistful, faraway look had come into her eyes, and Meg seized her shoulders firmly.

"Your father is so unbelievably proud of you," she said assuredly. "And I'm sure he's smiling in heaven, looking down on you." A few tears pricked the back of Christine's eyes, and she felt a lump arise in her throat. She nodded.

"I hope so," she said quietly.

"I know so." Christine looked up at Meg gratefully, and the blonde-haired young woman brushed the tears away from Christine's face. "He loves you, Raoul loves you, Mama and I love you…and you're going to look absolutely radiant in that dress." Christine smiled again and secured the bodice over her shoulders and chest. She lifted up her long hair and twirled around so she had her back to Meg.

"Can you do me up?" Meg smiled. She remembered when she and Christine had first met; that was the first thing that Christine had ever said to her. Looking at her now, she couldn't get over how far she had come since then. The gawky, shy teen that she had once been was long gone, replaced by a beautiful, sophisticated young woman, although Meg couldn't help but laugh when Christine would let out a sudden giggle – identical to the one that Meg had grown to love all those years ago. It was a flashback to the past, and in a strange way it reassured Meg that her childhood playmate was still there, just in a body and mind that had matured over the last seven years or so. When Christine had first come to the Opera, her hair had been enormous – more like a bush of curls than a waterfall. But now that had changed, and Christine's features had shifted into a beautiful ivory heart-shaped face, large green eyes that sparkled and danced, and a small but full-lipped mouth that could set into a hard line if she was either determined to get something done, cross about something, or if she was trying desperately not to laugh at something unseemly. Her hair had changed into a long cascade of auburn curls that fell to her waist, and however much Christine complained about it, everyone else knew it was beautiful. The fact that Christine was so unaware of how beautiful she was made her even lovelier; she didn't flaunt her beauty by painting her face and eyes up with eyeliner or lipstick, although she did often use a tiny amount of the stage face glitter to dab around the corner of her eyes, making them seem even larger and more alive. Occasionally her lips would be painted ever so slightly pink by some of the stage's lip tint, making her seem so much more youthful.

Meg smiled at her friend and carefully did up the tiny buttons that ran along the length of her bodice, stretching down to the level of her waist.

"There," she said, stepping back. Christine slowly turned around to face her, and Meg smiled even wider. "You look beautiful." Christine gave her a watery smile and let out a sob involuntarily.

"Oh, Meg…I'm terrified. What if I do it wrong? What if Raoul doesn't really want to marry me after all? I'll let everyone down…" Meg just shook her head and forced her friend to look at her.

"Christine, don't be absurd! I've never seen so much love for one person in someone's eyes as I do when I look at Raoul. Besides, if he didn't want to marry you, he would have told you so long before we started actual preparations – you know that's the sort of man that he is. And you're just being paranoid now anyway. There's nothing to get wrong! You'll be absolutely fine." Christine looked hopefully at her friend and tucked a curl behind her ear.

"How do I look?" she asked, shyly. Meg grinned, turned her friend round so that she was facing the mirror, and leant her head on her shoulder.

"A vision," she said simply, and it was true. Christine's dress had been custom made just for her: it had an ivory bodice with short, tight sleeves that hugged her shoulders, and there were tiny tendrils of ivy embroidered all over the bodice in thread the same colour as the dress itself. There was a teal ribbon that crisscrossed all the way up the back, concealing the tiny buttons and producing a corset effect. Around Christine's waist was tied a simple teal sash, complete with a simple bow at the back, and the skirt flowed down to the floor in almost a perfect circle, the full skirt spreading out around her feet and making a train when she walked. The most striking detail of the dress was the large, triangular panel of teal material at the back of the dress, which emanated from her waist and gradually widened. This was decorated with the outlines of tiny, silver teardrops, and the whole dress was so stunning on Christine that Meg could almost cry. She could hardly believe what was happening – how was she being maid of honour to her best friend since childhood? The years had passed so quickly and neither of them had really realised it, but now the hard reality of Christine leaving to get married really hit Meg, and she realised just how lonely she would probably be without her. She angrily brushed a few tears away. Now was not the time for sadness; it was Christine's big day, and she should be just as happy for her as the young brunette was for herself. She was shaken out of her thoughts when she heard a muffled sob come from Christine.

"I'm sorry, Meg. It's just…well…I don't think either of us ever actually thought we would grow up and marry. Sometimes I think that we were only celebrating our thirteenth birthdays last week…and now we're twenty years old, and I'm getting married…I hardly know what to think." Meg smiled tearfully.

"I know…" she said, her voice shaking slightly. "We grew up…but we were the girls who would never grow up! I thought we'd be children forever: sneaking into the kitchens to steal some extra cake; falling over when we did our ballet warm-ups; giggling like idiots whenever a new male dancer was hired…and now you're going to be a married woman, Christine! I can hardly believe it!" The women smiled at each other for a few moments, linked by their hands as they thought back to their childhood together, and soon there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Girls?" Antoinette Giry called. "Are you ready for me to come in and do your hair, Christine?" Meg gave Christine a quick kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of her hand before ushering in her mother, who could only stop and stare at how beautiful Christine looked. She smiled widely at her.

"You look absolutely radiant, my dear." Christine blushed and looked at her feet. Antoinette inwardly scolded herself: what was she doing, embarrassing the poor girl in such a way? She walked over to the young woman and played around with some strands of her hair for a while.

"What do you think would be best, Madame?" Christine asked shyly. Antoinette tipped her head to one side, thinking for a minute.

"I think we should do a loose, plaited chignon." Christine blinked and looked vacant. "So I can plait your hair loosely, and then twist it round into a bun at about the crown of your head. We should be able to pull out a few curls to frame your face too, and you'll be the perfect picture. With just a little bit of kohl around your eyes…and a little rouge on your lips and cheeks, you'll be the incarnation of the word beauty!" Christine smiled gratefully, and Antoinette busied herself with plaiting the waterfall of curls that fell down Christine's back. Meg watched her mother with admiration as she noted her quick hands; she had evidently styled hair many, many times before, probably with the reams of ballet girls that had come under her command so many times over the years. She wished she could be as good at plaiting hair as her mother was; she'd tamed the unruly mass of curls in less than a minute and it was now sitting in a neat plait that ran down Christine's back. Antoinette quickly twisted the braid until it coiled round into a perfect chignon that sat almost exactly in the middle of the back of Christine's head, which she quickly secured with a good twenty hairpins. Meg shook her head in disbelief and admiration. Whenever she tried to do something like that, it just all fell apart and only succeeded in making her angry and frustrated. To add the final touch, her mother pulled a few curls loose to frame Christine's face, and turned her round to face Meg.

"What do you think?" Meg could only shake her head and smile.

"Perfect!" she answered truthfully. "I think you're ready, Christine." Her friend looked up at her, her eyes dancing with excitement and nervousness. "Come on – you don't want to be late!"

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Christine was stood at the entrance to the small village church, her heart pounding. Gripping one of her hands firmly was Meg, who looked at her and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Her other hand was threaded through the arm of Monsieur Firmin, one of the theatre's patrons. She had always had a soft spot for the old gentleman, despite his rather comical appearance and disposition, and he had always admired her for her resilience and not being the image of all the other silly ballet girls. She looked up at her friend and he smiled kindly down at her. It had barely taken her a second thought to decide to ask him to give her away at her wedding, and he had accepted without hesitation. Of course, her Angel, the man whom she truly regarded as her father, would have been the best choice…but he was dead. Nevertheless, she was overjoyed that Firmin had agreed to give her away – she would have a truly concerned face amongst the ranks of ballerinas and suchlike. She could see Raoul stood at the altar, bouncing up and down nervously on the balls of his feet, and Andre stood beside him as his best man. Firmin signalled to the conductor to begin the music, and he willingly complied, striking up the wedding march. Christine looked up at Meg, panicking slightly, and the trio began their walk down the aisle. As she walked, she could feel various different gazes looking at her: some of contempt, like Carlotta and her rabble, but mostly of joy and admiration for the young soprano who was finally free of the fearsome Phantom and could be a free woman to marry the man whom she loved. She smiled at the youngest ballerinas, looking up at her eagerly, and thought how it hardly seemed any time at all since she had been one of them. Yet here she was, heading down towards the man whom she loved most in the entire world, and was finally going to become his wife. As they reached Raoul, Firmin gave her hand a squeeze and passed it over to the young Vicomte, and Meg released her other hand and stepped back with Firmin. She looked back at them both gratefully, and the priest looked at the couple kindly and began reciting their vows. Christine was shaking so much that she could hardly follow or repeat what he was saying, but eventually the two of them came to the end of the vows, and Raoul slipped a simple white-gold band over her ring finger.

"You may kiss the bride," the priest finished kindly. Raoul tucked one of Christine's curls behind her ear and leaned in to kiss her gently. She responded by looping her arms around his neck, and when the kiss had finished, Raoul whispered to her.

"You look beautiful." She smiled and kissed him again, and the two of them linked hands and made their way down the confetti-filled aisle, ready to start their new life together.

* * *

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